Novel & Cerita Mobster Characters

His secretary was rushing inside a few seconds after she was inside, worried that she would disturb him but Maria only had to shoot a glare at the poor woman to make her shut up. Something about her cold gaze and demeanor was enough to freeze everyone in their spot. Well, almost everyone, Anton seemed to be the only exception for he was fire who could melt the ice stare. It was almost an irony considering he was her son. Their personality was just the complete opposite, though both were equally as stubborn and determined when it came down to what they wanted.

Third Person Pov: Thomas Allen is one of the most ruthless leaders in the mafia gang Hayden Wren heads. Its known as 'Python'. Recently, there's been a fued between the two, hence; Thomas moved to Dubai. The members of the gang thought things would dissolve over time... but it didn't. Communication seized between the two for the past two years. Now, Thomas is back to set things right.

Finally, the bartender left his station, taking a seat next to Chiara. He placed his hand on her thigh, clearly taking advantage of the fact that Chiara was drunk and not in the right state of mind. “So, I’m Gambino. What’s your name?” He asked, flashing her a slight smile. Chiara’s cheeks reddened. If it was back then, she would have pushed his hand off and complimented it with a slap but she was much too intoxicated to care. “Chiara.” She muttered, her eyes locked on his green ones.

He stands up straighter, towering over me, his dark eyes swirling with a storm of secrets he refuses to share. “I’m a mafia leader, Harper. There is always someone out there trying to get at me,” he says bluntly, his chest rising and falling heavily. He looks away from me, a flash of genuine pain crossing his face. “And now, they can hurt you to get to me. You’re a weakness.”

The men surrounding Dominic and Artyom are still looking towards Cyrus and the two guards who found him when I come barreling around the corner of the cabin. The engine of the Hummer roars beneath me. Even as I soar over bumps and dips in the landscape, the car remains steady, taking each shock and blow in stride. The two men are cutting Cyrus free when I drive up on them. Cyrus is still handcuffed, but his feet are free, and like the rat he is, he runs the moment he sees me coming. The two guards who found him, however, are not as lucky. I see the twin expressions of horror on their faces as I plow into them and they fly up and over the hood of the car.

There’s one of him fishing and a few at the beach, but nothing to give me any idea about where he lived before he enrolled at Blackthorn. Clearly, his old man left him money. Probably money he stole from the family, but nobody was ever able to find it. He wasn’t as smart as he thought, though, because he got found out. Hence agreeing to work with the feds. He was scared out of his mind knowing Bruno Morelli doesn’t take well to being robbed. No one does. But he is a guy with plenty of muscle behind him, which most people don’t have at their disposal.

The uncomfortable chair and cheap table didn’t bother him as much as the thoughts running through his head. Armani del Rossi was no ordinary man. He ruled his world from the shadows, the name “Del Rossi” whispered with fear and reverence across continents. He was a mafia lord—a ruthless, calculating figure who commanded loyalty through power and fear. Possession was his creed. Control was his doctrine. And anything he wanted, he took.

Panicked, I hit him a few times and when he finally stopped, he looked at me, not with shock but with a coldness hard to describe in words. “Get the hell off me!” I shouted in despair, pushing him hard, trying to put some distance between us. Did I catch him off guard? I didn’t think so. I knew the mobster was a man who couldn’t be taken by surprise. He was so cold on the inside that one look at him instantly froze me. But that didn’t mean I’d let myself be walked all over. “Fuck…” And he nervously stormed off, leaving behind him an unmistakably sexy musky aroma. I was expecting him to react violently given his notoriety, but to my surprise, he preferred to hurl an insult and leave.

“Says someone who was fantasizing about a mafia don.” Jane blinked rapidly. “Mafia don?!” Carla shrugged. “Mafia don, mafia lord—whichever you call it,” she grunted, tapping her phone. “Why isn’t Inspector Rosaline picking up?” “Hey, Carla, look at me. You mean he’s a mafia?” Carla nodded. “Couldn’t you tell? From the way he talks, the tattoo, the gun? Who else carries a gun and stares people down without fear?” Jane scrunched her face. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Oh my God, you just made me miss my soulmate.” She glared at Carla.

Cyrus treated Linda's words like farts. Since he had nothing better to do, he decided to amuse himself by taunting the old woman. [Oh ho, @Linda, so capable, huh? If you've got so much skill, why not call Jack and Vincent to shovel the snow?] He named names openly in the group, showing zero regard for anyone's status. Jack Brogan, known as "The Jackhammer," was a notorious street thug. In Cyrus' past life, when the mob had broken into his home, Jack had led the charge with a mountain-splitting axe in hand.